There was a brief silence.

“Ohshit,” said Ket Hau.

“Hau!”

“Sorry, Ma.” Ket Hau turned back to Ket Siong. “But wait, Siong. You’re back in touch now. Are you going out with her, or…?”

Their mother gazed down at her mulberry leaf tea, wearing the expression she used to assume whenever a gossiping auntie visited—austere, yet not quite discouraging. Gossip was not correct and so she would not initiate or encourage it, but it would be rude to interrupt.

Ket Siong wasn’t inclined to enlist her help, anyway. It wasn’t like there was anything to hide, anymore.

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again,” he said.

Ket Hau was agog, more alive than he had looked in a long time. “Why? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you,” said Ket Siong. He met his brother’s eyes. “But I asked you some questions, too, Ko. I think it’s your turn to answer.”

Ket Hau dropped his gaze.

Ket Siong was experiencing a novel feeling, one he’d rarely enjoyed in relation to his family. It was the sensation of being in possession of the moral high ground.

“Just now you said something,” he said.

Ket Hau waved a protesting hand, his head still bent. “Not fair to drag up what I said. Ma said cannot fight.”

“You said it’s not my job to keep us safe. It’s yours,” said Ket Siong. “But you can’t decide to keep us all safe. That’s not under your control. And it shouldn’t be on you alone. You have to let us help.”

“Correct,” said Ma. “I’ve told you also, Hau. You should listen to Siong. He’s so sensible now he’s grown up.”

Ket Siong had been about to point out that he was an adult and therefore entitled to take on equal responsibility for protecting the family, but Ma’s contribution put paid to that. Better to let the fact he was fully thirty-one years of age speak for itself, even if his family seemed incapable of remembering the fact.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was trying to find out about Stephen,” he said to his brother. “But I’m going to make mistakes if you don’t tell me what’s going on. You can’t make the decisions for us all.”

Ket Hau was quiet, unusually for him. He wiped his face with his hand, and Ket Siong and Ma both realised at the same time that he was crying.

“Boy, what is this?” said Ma. “Why are you crying? No need to cry. Siong, get the tissues there.”

Ket Siong was already on his feet, grabbing a box of tissues off the mantelpiece. He passed them to his mother, too obscurely guilty to present them to Ket Hau himself. Ma pulled out several pieces and pressed them into Ket Hau’s hands.

“You must be nicer to your brother, Siong,” she said. “You don’t know. It’s not easy, everything that happened… And now it’s very stressful, his job. Having to earn to support the family. Iremember how it was like, when you all were children. You think I don’t know?”

“I’m sorry,” said Ket Siong.

But Ket Hau said, with a laugh that sounded too much like a sob, “Leave Siong alone, Ma. He didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just my chickens coming home to roost.”

“Chickens? What chickens? You bought chickens? We already have a lot in the freezer, cannot finish—”

“No, don’t worry. I didn’t buy chickens,” said Ket Hau. “There are no chickens.”

He was definitely laughing now. Ket Siong sat back down, cautious.

His brother looked at him. “If the worst thing to come out of this is I have to admit Siong is right, I’ll be happy. That’s considered getting off lightly.” Ket Hau rubbed his face on his sleeve and put the tissues Ma had given him on the table, still dry.

“I was trying to protect you all,” he said. His voice broke on the sentence.

Ket Siong said, “I know.”

Ma’s eyes were fixed on Ket Hau’s face, troubled. “But what is it, Hau? What are you trying to protect us from?”